Bête Noire
by MCalhen
Summary: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS. Yaiba has diabolical plans for the future, and it is time to see them to fruition. Set long before Spiral.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN:** I'm scared of this...thing. This story. This creature that was birthed and I don't know what to do with it. I started it quite some time ago, but I've had trouble keeping up with fanfiction since my original characters were being cooperative - original novels come before fanfics. I have no idea where this is going, or if I'm even portraying Yaiba accurately enough. I probably have insulted him. He's smarter than me. I hope I kept him as in character as is possible for someone you only **hear** about but never get to **see**. What have I done?_

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><p>Yaiba Mizushiro stood at his top-floor window, looking down at the little dots of the human race walk below him. He chuckled darkly, hands folded behind his back. The darkness would eventually sweep them up, uncontained, like a blaze of fire overtaking an entire country.<p>

Yaiba Mizushiro planned to overtake the world.

He turned away from the window and shuffled through some papers on his desktop. His secretary had left him a message while he'd been out to lunch. He picked up the memo and stared at it, grinning. "Over three hundred women have already applied?" He flicked the card onto the desk and walked across the lushly decorated office to his coat tree. He took his dark green coat and powder blue scarf from the hooks and bundled up appropriately for the weather he would encounter on his way from the office building to the nearby laboratory.

His personal elevator took him down to the ground floor. The long, door-free hallway allowed him private access from his office to the parking garage, or – as he preferred this time – to the elegant courtyard outside. He hooked a right at the intersection and it led him to a corridor with only glass on one side. He stepped outside through the nearest door, the clip of his shoes harsh against the cold cement. The sky above him was overcast. Yaiba paused as he passed by the frozen fountain – an import from Europe with a top statue of hoofed imps and naked, sexed angels with bat-like wings. The sculptor called it "art" while some of Yaiba's employees referred to it as "disturbing"; Yaiba thought it was beautiful.

He wondered what the women would think if they knew the truth of his secret project. They saw his handsome, tall figure and knew of his success in the business world. Those were the reasons they vied for his sperm. These women came from many parts of the globe to have successful, handsome children.

Yaiba gave a dirty, cat-like grin. Even his pupils transformed into black slits through his amber irises, he was so very feline-like. This is what God must feel like, he realized – so very powerful, the human race at his mercy. There would be no turning the bodies of water red with blood to warn of this cataclysm, but when the upheaval began, there wouldn't be a surface that wasn't stained red.

Yaiba ignored those that greeted him as he pushed open the double glass doors into his laboratory. They were insignificant, and as a conglomerate leader, he could afford to disregard whomever he wanted. Those who were upset with him could quit. He didn't force them to work with him, and they would all be dealt with eventually.

It was the 1980s, and people had been talking and writing of science fiction and genetics for decades. The world wanted to see results from all their countless research. Progress, progress – Yaiba was sick of the talk and eager to show the world what could be done. Wouldn't they be stunned when one of his precious brood tore open their throats? They could try whining then.

Humans were pathetic.

Yaiba took a stainless steel elevator to one of the basement levels of the lab. He was responsible for the design of the building. He smirked. Was there anything he _couldn't_ do? Not a thing was beyond his reach.

Twelve women were seated in a lobby of prenatal care. He barely eyed them. They would undergo an interview with him after their health had been assessed. Blood samples would be taken and their genes considered. Many of them would go home broken-hearted. A few if not all might feel hopeful for a few days until something was found in their tests that disqualified them. One of these females giggled, and he turned to take in her face. When he smiled at her, she averted her eyes to the floor shyly.

She would go home. No moron like that would raise one of his children. He bowed to her charmingly and slipped down the hallway to the interview room.

He sat in his chair and skimmed the twelve files on his desk. He could read incredibly fast – as a child, an adult had told him there was no way that he could finish a novel at such a speed. To spite them, he had recited the book until his parents persuaded him to halt. He could have gone on to the end.

Outside his soundproof room, he knew the women were getting their blood drawn and enduring full physicals in another part of the basement. He waited for the first call, and it came from one of his assistants.

"The first applicant is ready," said the man on the other side. "We already sent the second home."

"Diabetes runs in her family?"

The assistant sounded surprised. "Y-yes."

_I bet you wonder how I knew_, thought Yaiba.

"Send the first one in." Yaiba clicked off his speaker phone and waited in his leather chair, fingers from one hand touching the tips of those on his opposite hand in front of his chest.

The assistant led the first girl in. She was Japanese, with a lovely, slender frame. She was too plain in the face. She bowed, said a name he heard and registered but ignored except for the sake of recalling her file. He did not look at her often. She bored him.

She was not married, not too young or old, and she seemed to be a hardworking individual with a steady income. This information was promising, but not enough.

"Your file says you aren't married," began Yaiba. "Do you have any prospects?"

"I'm dating," said the woman.

That wasn't good. They either had to be single or married. A parent that dated hadn't settled her romantic life, and that would become a distraction. Single women who were hopeful might date a moron. Man-haters, lesbians, and women who brought along their husbands for the interview so they could also be interrogated were ideal. Yaiba wanted to know just what sort of home his children would enter.

"That's not stable," said Yaiba firmly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shoulders slump. If she couldn't keep her composure during an interview, how could she handle motherhood? "What of your educational plan for the child?"

"I would see that he was put in the best local, public schools."

"We're done here." Yaiba turned from her, waving her away. "Leave."

He heard her stand and move to the door, but before she opened it, she paused. With a trembling voice, she asked, "Can't I at least know what I said wrong?"

"It wouldn't change the fact that you were wrong." Local and public schools! What an atrociously plain idea, not unexpected for such a boring woman.

The door slammed behind her.

Two more interviews later, Yaiba felt like a drink. It wasn't that the interviews were going badly – on the contrary, he was having too much fun! He took delight in sending the giggly woman away in tears. She had been nothing more than a fan of his looks and money, though she was a lovely specimen. But groupies were only welcomed if they had brains.

The fourth woman was promising. Her last name was Asazuki, and she answered his questions with her chin up.

"Are you dating?" asked Yaiba.

"No, and with a child, my focus will be on him."

"You're sure you'll have a boy?"

"I want a boy. I'm getting a boy."

Yaiba smirked. This woman was assertive. "Do you have an education plan in mind?"

"It would be premature to choose now, since the staff members of schools always change, but I plan to send him to the best. I'll hire the best tutors. I've already compiled a list of prospects." A stapled-together list was slid across his desk. Yaiba skimmed through it, nodding approvingly. He even marked off a couple of potential tutors and a daycare – they had good reputations, and they were entirely undeserved.

"Thank you for the tips," said Asazuki-san. She took the list from his desk and put it away.

"You're that trusting of my opinion on education?" asked Yaiba, eyebrow raised. She hadn't glanced at his adjustments.

"You care enough about your children to warrant blood tests, full physicals, and interviews," she shot back.

He liked this woman as much as was possible for him to enjoy a human. Many of the others couldn't meet his eye and stumbled over their answers. One woman had listed off all the best colleges in the world, and had failed to provide any ideas for educational plans beforehand, as if the child would apply for Oxford before they'd finished suckling the breast.

After more pleasing answers during his interrogation, Yaiba smiled. "We'll be in contact with you, soon, Asazuki. We must see what your test results yield."

When the woman had left, Yaiba leaned back in his chair. There were seven more interviews to conduct before he would go home late that evening, but he did not mind. It wasn't likely he would find two in a batch that would meet his approval. He almost thought of sending the rest home, but he decided to let them in, only to mess with them. Humans made lovely puppets, and he realized just how much he liked to tug violently on their strings.

"It has started." He spun a little in his chair and called his assistant to bring in the next reject.


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN:** I admit, I'm quite anxious about this chapter. I had to rewrite it completely because I was guilty of telling more than showing. Not just that, but as much research as I continuously do on cloning and whatnot, I just...don't have the medical background or the intelligence to go into detail. So I had to work around that tactfully without completely ignoring it. I'd be ignoring what Yaiba and Spiral are about if I had just glossed over those completely... _

_I think it's clear that this story still intimidates me, but I can't help but continue writing it. Yaiba fascinates me as a character. Concrit is always appreciated!_

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><p>While the first wave of children waited in their wombs, Yaiba Mizushiro turned to another of his favorite projects – cloning himself. He had waited ever so patiently to find a surrogate mother that could carry out the task. The woman he chose agreed to stay in his protective custody. It hadn't taken much convincing when Yaiba explained that it was for the sake of the baby. She would be paid handsomely for all her efforts, though he never intended to give her the money from the beginning. He couldn't.<p>

Yaiba's mother was too old for the difficult task of carrying a child, especially a clone. There was also the daunting task of explaining to her why he wanted her to carry another child and claim it as her youngest son. Yaiba's parents believed him to be an outstanding gentleman; he couldn't let them know what he intended.

A few months later, the first of Yaiba's children were born. Yaiba glimpsed at the letters collecting on the corner of his desk. Like the rest, he swept them into a plastic crate. They held pictures of his newborn offspring. Some of them came with happy messages, such as, "Thank you for giving me a child – without you, this would never have been possible!"

Yaiba personally incinerated the mail at the end of each day. It was a matter of getting rid of evidence, he told himself. Mostly, he just didn't care about the children. They were just the first ones. He had watched from a one-way mirror as each of the newborns had surgically had their seventh rib removed.

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><p>In the meantime, his clone developed in the womb at a seemingly healthy pace. The first several attempts had resulted in miscarriages or other unfortunate accidents. Yaiba had anticipated this, but he had a good feeling this particular clone would make it.<p>

The day that Hizumi was born, the surrogate disappeared, and an unfortunate "accident" befell Yaiba's parents. Several other people might have been misplaced or in car wrecks or drowned in the ocean on a cruise Yaiba had treated them to during the months before – it didn't matter how they went, as long as those doctors and scientists were gone. The newspapers covered the tragic deaths of Yaiba's parents, and how their infant son had barely escaped death. Hizumi went into the care of his "older brother" immediately.

Guardians had been lined up and appointed with the task of raising Hizumi happily and healthily, but when he was first born, there was just a nanny who knew nothing of the truth and was happy to assist her employer with the daunting task of raising his infant brother.

It wasn't pride that drew Yaiba to his clone, nor any parental feelings. It was a narcissistic urge to admire everything about himself through the clone.

"I certainly was a handsome child," said Yaiba approvingly, sitting in his apartment with his clone's head cradled in his palm while his other hand gave support to the tiny back of the baby. "I should clone myself more often." It wasn't quite necessary to continue producing clones so soon, though. After he could observe everything that went wrong with this clone over the next few years, he would work on improvements for the next.

However, Yaiba just couldn't bring himself to allow the child to be poked, prodded, and tested on. It was offensive. Unlike the children he sired, Hizumi was closest to Yaiba genetically, which still made him superior to other humans. There were lots of difficulties to prepare for and improve upon, but until this clone started to break down…

How he loathed his softness towards the child. Perhaps if he hadn't hired that nanny to do all the dirty, unpleasant work of caring for Hizumi, he would have disliked him immensely. Instead, he enjoyed Hizumi's company and often sought it.

"You're almost as perfect as me," he said cheerfully, setting the sleeping boy in a bassinette in the living room. He stared out the window at the city, smirking. It was his empire out there, and with any luck, someday a successor would continue his hard efforts to purge the lesser souls dirtying society.

Yaiba left Hizumi with the nanny to go into the office. There were plans in place to work on the next wave of "Blade Children" – a term Yaiba hadn't shared with many people. It would be slipped from many tongues when the rumors began. In the future, that name would be muttered like a curse.

The Blade Children couldn't grow fast enough for that war, and Yaiba wanted to wait before he sat through anymore surgeries. The problem with knowing everything was that he always was bored. When that day came, he predicted that his amusement wouldn't last very long. Was it even worth calling a war, when he knew he would win it?

When he got to his building, Yaiba took one of his secret passageways down to one of his private rooms. Even his secretaries didn't know where to find him, and the room was built to block out any frequencies. No one could contact him or detect him if they'd slipped a tracking device on his clothes. Inside this private room was a wall of small drawers. Each of the drawers had been labeled with a last name and the first initial of each of his children.

The seventh rib of each child was nestled on a soft foam bed within a glass case, and Yaiba sifted through them to help him think. He wondered why he hadn't incinerated the bones as he did the children's baby pictures, but he knew that answer. He knew everything.

"They're only half of me," he said, narrowing his eyes at the rib of "Rutherford, E." that he rolled around between his fingers.

Hizumi had been born without his seventh rib. The Blade Children had been named as such to remind him of the surgery his children had endured in order to physically resemble him. He'd left the mark on their torsos, kept the ribs, and felt distain that an equal hadn't been born to bear his children for him.

Yaiba sought Paradise, and he found that he also longed for an Eve.


End file.
